Repercussions
by Ancalime8301
Summary: Not agreeing with a law doesn't mean you're exempt from its provisions, as Holmes and Watson discover.  Warning: character deaths.


While the characters are based on the 2009 movie, I incorporated some elements of canon to fill things out, such as Watson publishing his stories and Holmes and Watson living together again post-Mary (what happened to her in this 'verse? I have no idea).

Wordcount: 1305 words (13 drabbles of exactly 100 words, plus 5 words for a heading)  
Warning: character deaths (Also: definite hanky warning.)

A/N: Written for the shkinkmeme prompt: Mycroft discovers Holmes and Watson are having a relationship. He'd always known Sherlock was homosexual but thought that he'd made the consequences clear enough that Sherlock would refrain from any deviancy. Horrified by his discovery he turns them in.  
Sad ending plz. (2009 movieverse)

* * *

_Repercussions_

.

"Ah, Lestrade. What do you have for us today?"

"Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson, I'm glad to have caught you at home. I'm afraid I must arrest you both for gross indecency."

"What, again? We've been through this twice already."

"Yes, I know, Doctor."

"Come, Watson, we'll have this sorted and be home for dinner. Which petty criminal is seeking revenge this time, Lestrade?"

"It's no petty criminal, Mr. Holmes. This time your accuser is one whose reputation and influence exceed even your own."

"Really. I find that rather difficult to believe. Who is this esteemed personage? The Queen?"

"Your brother."

* * *

"Holmes, what could they possibly have on us? We've been careful-"

"Don't say it! We are fortunate to have been given adjoining cells; do not assume the mercy of the police extends to leaving us unsupervised."

"All right. But . . . why is your brother doing this? When did he find out?"

"He's known about me for most of my life and has never approved. I . . . I don't know when he figured it out, but this is about me, not you. He has threatened me with this before. I'm sorry . . . I should have warned you."

"Nonsense. So what will we do now?"

* * *

"Gentlemen, I believe you know the charges against you. Most damning is the testimony of Mr. Mycroft Holmes, of course, and he claims there are incriminating passages in the published writings of Dr. Watson. We should have no trouble having the Doctor's stories dismissed, given that they would not have been published had they been judged to contain such allusions."

"Can you have the charges against Watson dropped? That he was wounded in the service of Queen and country has to mean something."

"Holmes, you can't think I'll let you face this alone."

"I'll see what I can do."

* * *

"Holmes, this is ridiculous! I should be on trial, same as you. You know the charges imply there are two people involved."

"I will not ruin your life along with my own."

"I thought the proceedings were being kept quiet to protect your brother from scandal."

"Watson, you're being naive. Word will get out. It always does. Withdraw as much as you can from my accounts and put the money somewhere safe. If all goes as I hope, this will be an unnecessary precaution. If it goes badly, well, you won't have to worry about the rent while I'm . . . away."

* * *

"I see you decided to grace me with your presence. Came to gloat, did you?"

"I am not here to gloat, Sherlock. I came to find out whether you have repented of your disgraceful actions."

"A telegram would have sufficed."

"You remain steadfast in your perversion?"

"I maintain that whom I choose to care for is no one's business but mine and his."

"It's a crime, Sherlock! Surely you of all people understand that means there must be consequences for being caught."

"For being turned in, you mean. Perhaps you have forgotten that traitors are hanged?"

"Good-bye, Sherlock."

"Good riddance."

* * *

"Two years' hard labor? It's a death sentence!"

"I've never feared the possibility of dying for you."

"Holmes, please-"

"Watson, you must control yourself. Take a deep breath . . . that's better. You must realize I can endure nearly anything so long as I know you are safe and free. I will think of you every moment of every day, and in return, I ask that you keep yourself whole and well. Can you do that?"

"If I must."

"Two years isn't such a terribly long time, after all. Give my regards to Mrs. Hudson, and go to Clarkie if you need anything."

* * *

.

* * *

Watson,

I am sending this letter courtesy of a sympathetic warden, who warned me of your repeated attempts to gain access to the prison grounds. As much as your ruses and guises amuse me, I must ask you to stop. Please. You don't lie well enough to succeed, and they will soon tire of rebuffing you. Only your war service and reputation as a doctor have saved you from arrest thus far.

If it will make the time easier, consider me dead. Mourn me if you must. Just keep yourself whole and well, as you promised. For my sake.

S.H.

* * *

"Clarkie. Is something wrong?"

"No, sir, I just thought I'd stop by and see how you're doing."

"Take a seat, have some tea. I've been keeping busy, mostly writing."

"Yes sir, I noticed. Will you keep publishing the stories, sir?"

"I have to uphold his reputation - and my own - somehow. The rumors are becoming bothersome."

"How do you explain his absence, sir?"

"He's abroad on a case."

"With all due respect, sir, he'll be 'abroad' for longer than is believable."

"Then perhaps I'll take his advice and say he died."

"You'd have to observe mourning then, sir."

"I already am."

* * *

"Holmes!"

"Watson. You look well enough, but you ve been worried."

"Of course I've been worried. You look terrible, old chap. They cut your hair?"

"Easier to find the lice that way."

"It'll grow back. Come here . . . Two years is far too long. . . . Holmes, you're burning up. How can they release you like this?"

"I refused to stay any longer than my prescribed term. Let's go home."

"I was going to suggest a detour to Sussex, but never mind that now. We can go later, when you're well."

"Why Sussex?"

"It's where we'll retire, now that this nightmare is behind us."

* * *

(From the journal of J. Watson)

My relief that Holmes is back has been eclipsed by my concern for his health. When he was released a week ago, he was so weak and ill he nearly collapsed trying to mount the carriage step. His emaciation is frightening, and he shakes with chills as if it were midwinter rather than late July. His trembling only eases when I lie next to him and hold him against me.

Sometimes we'll lie together for hours, not even speaking, and he'll cling to me, his face buried in my shoulder. Part of me wonders if he's trying to say good-bye.

* * *

"What did you find for us in Sussex?"

"A cottage on the downs, very near the cliffs overlooking the Channel. Two hours by train, then five miles from the station and there you are. The nearest neighbors are a mile away, so no one will care what we are to each other. There are gardens and beehives and a creek for fishing. A lovely spot. Even you would like it."

"Hmm. You're certain I won't be bored?"

"Never. I won't let you."

"I'm sorry . . . I don't think I'll ever see it."

"Hush. I know."

"I love you, Watson."

". . . Holmes? Holmes!"

* * *

"What can I do for you, Doctor Watson?"

"Your brother is dead."

"My brother was dead to me two years ago, Doctor."

"You aren't sorry, are you? You've killed your brother, and now you stare at me like I'm out of my mind for being upset. Do you even have a heart?"

"You are fortunate there is no one else present, or you d be asked to leave for excessive noise. Doctor, my brother chose to disregard my repeated warnings about his criminal behavior and, when discovered, he was punished accordingly. I am not to blame for that."

". . . good day, Mycroft."

* * *

Mycroft Holmes had a heart, after all.

The blade was cleaned and sheathed; Watson strode out of the Diogenes, cane tapping rhythmically on the tiles.

The revolver was a reassuring weight in his jacket pocket; his fingertips stroked the cool metal as the train bore him away from London.

The walk was longer than he d usually chance with his leg, but pain would soon be irrelevant.

The mound of soil had not yet settled. Watson fell to his knees beside it and hoped Holmes liked the view.

The revolver glinted in the sunlight and the shot echoed over the Channel.


End file.
